


Noir at Nine

by kinkyweirdos



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Demisexuality, Dialogue Heavy, Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Kink Exploration, M/M, POV Alternating, Personal Growth, Polyamory, Power Exchange, Service Submission, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, body image issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkyweirdos/pseuds/kinkyweirdos
Summary: Cem Yilmaz isn’t looking for love.  He’s a simple guy – all he wants is a job that allows him to binge-watch his favourite TV shows on Monday mornings and the perfect hook up to end his embarrassing streak of utter failure in the bedroom. Is that really too much to ask for? Turns out it’s not, but the things he has to do to get there exceed his wildest dreams. They never included running errands for a creepy stranger named Yunseo with a serial killer smile and a freaky modern-day torture chamber. Or his best friend Felix being obsessed with that proudly self-proclaimed sadist. And they definitely did not revolve around hooking up with either of them. Or both. At the same time.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	Noir at Nine

“I’m sorry, this has never happened to me before.”

That’s a lie. It has happened before. And not just once or twice. Cem had lost count somewhere between the tenth and fifteenth time. 

“I swear,” he adds just as unconvincingly as before. The awkward silence grows so thick, it’s almost unbearable. By now he should be used to the somewhat pitiful expression of a gorgeous twink, but he’s not. All he gets is a nod, accompanied by a forced smile. It’s painful to look at. Something inside him shrivels with every second of eye-contact, so Cem tears his gaze away, wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans and tries to remember the guy’s name.

He can’t. And that alone should be enough not to give a fuck. But he does. He always fucking cares. About all the little things that shouldn’t pop up in his head. Especially not when his tongue is buried so deep in another man’s mouth that he can almost taste what he had for breakfast. Or when there’s a hand massaging his dick through his pants, squeezing harder with every passing minute, eventually giving up. 

Every time Cem manages to convince himself that he was _almost_ there. Just a little bit longer, a little bit harder, a different angle and it would’ve worked.

Realistically, he knows that there’s only a ridiculously small window where he’s able to get it up. Somewhere between four and six shots of Vodka. Right now, his blood alcohol level is at a devastating zero, which is a first. He’s never had to endure this sober before. It’s almost worse than the time he ended up puking his guts out in the middle of what was supposed to be steamy shower sex. 

“We could uh … well …” As he starts waving his hand in the direction of his laptop screen, Cem already knows that the answer is no. Apparently he’s not the only one who thinks that suggesting to _actually_ watch something after meeting up for _Netflix and Chill_ is kind of pathetic, because it earns him a disbelieving scoff. 

“That’s … cute. But I think I should go.” 

_Cute_ as in the biggest turn-off ever. It’s obvious in the way he says it, like he’s speaking to a dumb child who just ran face-first into a tree. It’s paired with a slightly disgusted look. It pisses Cem off more than it should, coming from someone who literally begged to ‘ _have his ass destroyed by Daddy’s fat cock_ ’ mere minutes ago.

“Yeah. Okay. Whatever. I wouldn’t have fucked you anyway,” he snaps. It sounds so bitchy that he has to jump to his feet and kick a pile of books afterward to feel just a little less emasculated. “Your breath smells like ass. And did your teeth always look like that? No wonder you didn’t smile in your profile pic.”

His words just bounce off the guy’s flawless skin as if he’s still dealing with a stupid toddler throwing a fit. He sighs, runs a hand through his shiny hair, then pats Cem’s shoulder, before he gets up and leaves, not even slamming the door.

Cem is left sitting on the edge of his bed with a shattered ego. There’s not enough time to pick up the pieces, not even enough to close his zipper before the door opens again. 

Privacy has never been something his roommate - and only friend - ever respected, so Felix sure as hell wouldn’t start now. There are only two things that guarantee Felix’s undivided attention - a hot guy and the potential of drama. Judging by his wide grin, he expects the latter.

“That’s a new record, champ,” Felix says with a nonchalant tone to his voice, a calmness Cem always envied. That and the modelesque appearance, but the last thing Cem wants to do now is concentrate on how effortlessly attractive Felix looks standing there, leaning against the doorframe. “How long was that? Five minutes max?” 

“He had to go because his mother -” Cem stops mid-sentence when he remembers that he used the sick mother excuse before, not even a week ago. 

“His mother had a car crash.” 

There’s a sting in his chest when Felix throws himself on the bed next to him, eyes fixated on Cem’s face like he has fun reading his biggest insecurities.

Cem knows it’s not like that, Felix just has a carefree spirit when it comes to everything - including things that shouldn’t be talked about in a joking manner. Like Cem’s ego.

“That’s odd. He looked awfully relaxed considering his mother is probably in a hospital and weirdly enough, I think he gave me the look,” Felix says and reaches out to Cem, poking his side. “But he wasn’t hot enough, right? Not for you, not for me.”

“His breath smelled like ass,” Cem repeats, but where his voice packed the punch of a temper tantrum before, it now sounds deflated. “And did you see his teeth?”

Secretly, Cem thinks the little gap was quite charming. Felix seems to think the same, his grin faltering as he clears his throat. A perfect indicator that he is about to get real with Cem. 

Felix pokes him again and nods, probably trying to motivate Cem to actually spill the tea.

“We both know his teeth were fine,” he says, “everything, really. That guy was handsome.”

Completely out of Cem’s league, to be exact and he should’ve been happy that somebody so handsome would even consider getting fucked by somebody so … him. The implication hangs in the air and Cem fumbles with his zipper, suddenly uncomfortably aware of all the places where his shirt clings to his stomach. He leans back and shrugs. 

“Yeah, but … he called me _Daddy._ Who wants to think about their dad while getting a handjob?!”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Come on, you know that’s not why he called you that.”

“Do I? I mean I’m obviously not the best sugar daddy material.” 

Now he’s playing dumb, needlessly gesturing at - nothing in particular. It’s more about the _absence_ of things in his tiny room. About the fact that his _bed_ is not actually a bed, but a mattress on top of some pallets. About his nightstand being an empty beer crate turned upside down. And last but not least the dirty old wallpaper from the Seventies. Those flowers have certain shades of brown that could very well be the reason why he’s never able to _get in the mood_.

But he can’t afford a better place. As a matter of fact, he’s lucky to have a friend like Felix, who at least has a job he can keep. Because he’s hot, apparently the most important quality of a barkeeper. Cem can mix drinks as well, he just starts sweating doing so. And in general. Now, with Felix’ attention solely on him, eyebrows raised and ready to laugh, is no exception.

“Neither am I and they still call me daddy,” Felix snorts, “it’s a sex thing, Cem. The vibe you give off, the energy you radiate. Or maybe just the fact that he’s small and you’re not.”

The only energy Cem can feel bubbling up inside him, is a very strong flight instinct. There’s not a day going by without Felix sharing details of his sex life nobody ever wanted to know, but as soon as he starts bringing up weird fetishes, something about it always makes Cem’s skin crawl. He tries his best not to let it show, stretching his legs out like he’s bored, taking his time with a fake yawn.

“Maybe, yeah.” He lets one or two seconds of silence tick by, to make a point of just _how_ unbothered by the sex talk he is, before changing the topic. “So, you wanna watch something?”

Cem doesn’t wait for a response, just leans over and clicks play on _Fast and Furious_. Nothing better than sports cars and explosions to heal his wounded masculinity - or his daddy energy. He still doesn’t know what the fuck that is supposed to mean, but if anybody has it, it’s probably Vin Diesel. Maybe he should finally get rid of his Walking Dead comic book collection and buy himself some weights instead. 

There are ten, maybe even fifteen minutes of silence - except for the howling engines and explosions that is. Cem catches himself relaxing, believing Felix is indeed okay with watching a movie they watched about a hundred times already. Then he realises it’s Friday and one of Felix’s rare days off. He tenses up when Felix takes a deep breath, sure that he’s about to suggest another frustrating night out.

“Maybe that’s the reason it doesn’t work,” Felix wonders instead, pointing at the screen, “you can’t get all dreamy-eyed watching Dwayne the Rock Johnson and also only fuck twinks. Did you ever consider hooking up with someone more like him?”

Cem flinches at that, hopefully subtle enough to go unnoticed. He huffs and can’t grasp why he feels put on the spot. He’s not attracted to that kind of guy. Never has been. 

“That’s different, I wanna _be_ him, not fuck him.”

“You can’t _be_ him sitting on your ass all day, though. That dude probably works out the second he wakes up and only stops when he’s either collapsing or getting his dick sucked. But who knows. He looks like he bench presses hundreds of kilos during a blowjob.”

That image makes Cem laugh, willing to forgive the constant flow of verbally getting his ass kicked. Felix has a point, he always does. It usually makes the difference between getting somewhere close to being a functioning adult or binge-watching Game of Thrones in a sea of empty bags of chips. But instead of listening to him, Cem decides to throw a pillow at his smug face and turn the volume up. 

“What? It’s true!” Felix grabs the pillow and laughingly slams it against Cem’s head. “Did it work? Are you done denying that you’re just hiding here? It’s Friday. Yeah, it didn’t work with the first one but there are plenty of guys who want to have a good time waiting out there.”

“So what, I’m trying to spend some quality time with my best friend here.” 

The friend who happens to be fucking annoying right now. Cem crosses his arms, one motivational comment away from getting seriously mad. 

“I know this is probably a strange concept for you, but some of us are able to have fun without having our dicks sucked.”

“That definitely is a strange concept for me because everything is improved by a good dicksucking,” Felix responds, quick like a pistol shot, no doubt in his voice whatsoever. He is a sexual person, an overly sexual person in Cem’s opinion, but sometimes he wants to be like him anyway. Felix doesn’t have to think much about sex, he just does. At least when it comes to a quick fuck. Cem can’t even remember the last time Felix had anything beyond casual hookups. 

Not that Cem ever had a boyfriend for longer than a month either, but the few terribly awkward dates are his lifebelt, the one thing he can feel superior in when he’s worse in literally anything else. Apart from hiding in his room. He’s an expert when it comes to that, fully equipped with everything to waste the whole weekend, including a pee bottle and a mini-fridge. And the best part is, he doesn’t even have to get up from his bed to reach it and hopefully bribe Felix with beer.

“I can give you a brojob if that means you’ll shut up about going out,” Cem offers sarcastically and opens his own can, obviously settling in for the night. 

“Do you really think I’d say no to that if I didn’t know you’re just fucking around? I so would have you get me off to cheap beer and overly muscular men.” Felix takes the beer and downs half of it in one go.

“I’m just doing you a favour, as someone who saw your browser history I can be one hundred percent sure that you don’t have enough brain cells left to get wasted every weekend.”

“What’s with my browser history? I’ve seen your dating app profiles, I don’t think _AlphaTopXXL_ can seriously judge me for - what, watching porn? Everyone does that,” Felix says with a slight pout on his face.

“Not the kind of porn you watch, judging by the stuff you googled. _Is it true that vaginas can grow teeth?_ Really?!”

“You know the only _vagina_ I’ve ever been close to was my mother’s the moment I was born!” Felix snaps back, surprisingly pissed at the fact Cem was giving him a taste of his own medicine. “What do I know about vaginas? Also, I’m pretty sure I was drunk when I googled that!”

“See, only proves my point. What if too much beer turns you straight? You know, the hormones and shit … and then you get your dick cut off by vagina teeth. I’m only looking out for you here, bro.” 

Apparently, that was enough stupidity to make Felix give up. He is not trying to defend his dumb google searches anymore, not even attempting to prove the point that he’s smart. He goes straight back to seeing right through Cem’s scheme and plays along.

“True. Thanks, mate. We have to warn every poor gay boy out there. We need solid proof for your thesis of beer-induced heterosexuality and teethy vaginas!” Felix empties his beer can, grabs Cem’s arm as he stands up and tries to pull him from the bed as well. “Get ready!”

No fucking way he’s getting ready to do anything other than wallow in self-pity after that catastrophic hook-up call. Cem is determined not to move. Only when Felix starts to pull with enough force to rip his fucking arm out, he stumbles to his feet with a grunt.

“Can’t you just text somebody to come over and fuck you?” 

“I could but it’s about _you_ getting out of _here_. I know you like being at home and that’s cool, be all introvert and stuff - _but_ I really can’t see you bringing another guy here just to watch him leave after five minutes.” Felix puts his hands on Cem’s shoulder, squeezing the tense muscles in what probably should be a massage but feels like torture. “Cem. You need to put yourself out there and, I don’t know, maybe try dating? Not just hooking up.”

“Felix,” Cem says and rolls his eyes, annoyed about getting the one-hundredth weird prep-talk about _putting yourself out there_ from a blond barkeeper with a six-pack. “What makes you think I don’t _try_?”

“I don’t know? All I see is you trying to have something casual with countless cute guys and it doesn’t work, so I thought maybe - just _maybe_ \- fucking around isn’t for you? And that’s cool. Romance isn’t dead or something.”

“Very convincing.” 

Not at all, realistically. Nobody is looking for _romance_ unless they’re too old or too ugly to ask for a quick fuck without coming off creepy, especially online. Felix is no exception and neither is Cem. At least he’s pretty sure that whatever makes him occasionally impotent at the age of twenty-one has nothing to do with secretly craving romantic candlelit dinners. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket anyway, knowing they’d bicker back and forth all night otherwise.

"Well, there's some kind of grand opening happy hour thing at a bar nearby," Cem says, scrolling through the gay event calendar Felix installed on his phone.

“See? Perfect opportunity to get drunk _and_ dick.” Before Cem can make an escape for his bed again, Felix steps behind him and pushes him towards his closet. With his arms around Cem and his hands folded in front of his stomach, Felix makes sure there is no way Cem gets away. He rests his chin on Cem’s shoulder, quietly chuckling, “Outfit time. We’re going for fuckable and only slightly desperate.”

He’s obviously more than a little bit desperate because it only takes a bit of body warmth to seep through his clothes and his mind is going places. Dirty places, that would have helped him half an hour ago. But now, Cem doesn’t want to think about his best friend slamming him against the closet. The mental image still hits him like a brick in the face, horribly vivid. He pushes it aside, only to wonder what it would feel like if the warm breath on his neck came a bit closer, teeth nibbling on his earlobe, hands slowly wandering further down, unbuttoning his pants …

Cem squeezes his eyes together, then wriggles himself out of that weird back hug as fast as he can. Felix is right. He needs to get out of here before the isolation drives him seriously mad. 

“What’s wrong with my outfit? I’m wearing my good sweatpants. Let’s just go.”

“Good sweatpants are still just-” Felix looks down, staring at Cem’s fake Adidas. He takes a second to think, searching for the best way to tell Cem that he’s not up there at the fuckable scale. “Sweatpants. Too saggy. Don’t you want them to get an idea of your body? I don’t see the XXL, Alpha. Not at all.”

“No, that’s the last thing I want,” Cem says, but makes sure that it’s quiet enough for Felix not to catch it. He wouldn’t understand anyway. Showing off his body is what gets him laid, whereas Cem has to hide his thighs in baggy pants to even have a slim chance of maybe one person at this bar not scrunching up their nose or laughing straight in his face if he tries to flirt. Awkwardly, because he sucks at the whole ‘making up for it with personality’ thing too. 

And the only reason he gives in and grabs a pair of jeans with an exasperated sigh, is because they’d probably not even let him inside wearing sweatpants, fake Adidas or not. Felix wouldn’t understand that either. He could stumble into a club dead drunk, wearing a cheap tracksuit and nobody would look at him suspiciously, like he’s about to whip out a jackknife.

“Nice. Haven’t seen you wear those in a while,” Felix says and the approval in his voice alone should be proof of Cem’s patheticness. It feels genuine, though, and a tiny bit too warm. It doesn’t last long, however, and Felix is back at his usual friendly bickering. “If you’re wearing one of those ugly-ass cartoon boxers, though, switch them out for briefs.”

“Seriously? It’s not like anybody is going to see them anyway.”

This time, Cem doesn’t bother to lower his voice, even if he knows he’s setting himself up for one of those stupid arguments, where Felix pretends to think he’s attractive with ridiculously grim determination, just to make him feel better. So he grabs a pair of black briefs too and starts to change, throwing his pants and his banana boxer shorts on top of a pile of used clothes in the corner. 

Felix clicks his tongue. “You never know. I’m not sure if you forgot but you had a guy over twenty fucking minutes ago, so it’s not like guys don’t fancy your Turkish ass.” 

From the corner of his eye, Cem sees Felix move his arm, lunging out, but stopping half-way through what probably would’ve resulted in a slap on his ass. Felix kicks against the dirty clothes instead. “But those bananas would definitely kill my boner, so...”

“Not on a guy who looks like Vin Diesel,” Cem says, slightly out of breath after squeezing his legs into those jeans. They weren’t a tight fit when he bought them, but they are now. It’s the last thing needed to make his motivation to go out drop below zero. He’d fall right back into bed if he had a choice, but one look in Felix's direction tells him that he doesn’t. 

“I’m not into Vin Diesel. He’s too bulky for me. I want to be the strong one.”

“Whatever you’re into then.” 

Cem rolls his eyes and fetches himself another beer for the way. He knows exactly what Felix’s type is. Twinks with shiny hair and soft skin, flaunting their toned, hairless bodies in designer clothes. They’re everything Cem isn’t, everything everybody wants and there has to be something majorly wrong with him, because when he looks at their perfect bodies, perfect hair, perfect smile, Cem feels absolutely nothing. Apart from the very strong urge to never leave his room ever again.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“We should’ve gone for kebab.” 

Tonight is not the first time Cem desperately tried to drag Felix into one of the kebab shops on the way. But it’s definitely the first time he has a good point in saying that greasy food would have been better. Well, apart from that one time they ended up at a nursing home theme party. Cem firmly believed that to be the weirdest experience he would ever have because even in a city like Berlin, filled to the brim with bored hipsters always coming up with new shit to be special, it couldn’t get much worse than being forced to have drinks out of infusion bags and bedpans.

He was wrong. This is worse.

Much, much worse.

All he can see is black everywhere - black walls, black knee-high leather boots and black gloves holding black leashes attached to black collars. And most of them look absurdly happy and peaceful, despite the creepy techno music in the background, that is beginning to shred Cem’s brain into tiny little pieces after only thirty seconds of standing in the door, frozen in place. 

When somebody asks him to step aside in the most polite way possible, instead of just slamming him into a wall, Cem is convinced that they accidentally stumbled into a cult meeting. 

Felix stares at a woman in a latex bodysuit, quickly turning to Cem when she whistles at him, hand running over a whip attached to her belt. Cem can only hope it’s decorative and that getting a drink for half the price here doesn’t come with torture. 

“Well, uhm,” Felix says as casually as he can but his eyes are way too big to hide his confusion,“ _Edge_ is a fitting name for this… very… edgy.”

“Or we could go for pizza if you don’t want kebab again,” Cem whispers and there’s a panicked _edge_ to his voice too. He refuses to step out of the entryway, even if that means catching a lot of curious looks, because that would also mean taking one step closer to a giant cage. 

“I don’t think you know any pizza places with a happy hour. Or do you?” Felix grabs Cem’s hand because he knows the answer and Cem is very aware of Felix’s undying love for alcohol. “We can do this. Just think of all the cocktails we can try.”

“But what about -”

He can’t finish his sentence, doesn’t know where to even begin or how to stop this nightmare. Cem lets himself get dragged along to the bar, only because he needs a moment to function properly again. Every other second he spots another bizarre thing that makes him blink and stare dumbly. Not long and it feels like his brain cells turned into popcorn from watching a half-naked guy being used as a footstool, all while Felix is casually ordering drinks as if they’re not right in the middle of a freakshow. 

“What about you not reading where you’re taking us, you mean?” 

Felix shoves a very familiar flyer in Cem’s direction and now the words _kinky, fetish_ and _BDSM_ seem incredibly big next to the happy hour announcement. 

“I should’ve worn black,” Felix adds with a very noticeable pout. It’s true, he sticks out like a sore thumb in his baby pink T-shirt and acid-washed jeans. 

That’s probably the only thing Cem can draw comfort from. For once he’s not the one catching attention for all the wrong reasons and it’s hard not to be smug about it, after having to fight for his black hoodie. Which is still terribly underdressed, but at least this doesn’t seem to be the type of place where people are quick to think baggy clothes must mean he’s hiding weapons or a bottle of vodka underneath. Cem can live with being thrown out because of a dress code. 

Surprisingly, he can also live with having a drink at this place. After the initial shock, it’s actually quite nice to be somewhere less boring than the usual hipster hunting ground for snobby students Felix usually picks out. At least here, he can be absolutely sure that he’s not the freakiest guy in the room. Not by far. 

Cem feels refreshingly normal as he takes a sip of whatever sickeningly sweet cocktail Felix ordered for both of them and takes another look around. 

There is a lot to take in. Cem tries not to be too blunt about it, stops and stares only for a couple of seconds, careful not to piss off some of the people with weapons in their hands. Not even Christian Grey could convince Cem that paddles aren’t deadly when Felix forced him to watch _Fifty Shades Of Grey_. And afterward the porn version - _Fifty Shades Of Gay_.

“I mean it’s kinda chill here,” Felix says and lets their glasses chink. He is already grinning, already over the fact that they’re in some sort of torture chamber with weirdly happy looking people. “I know _this_ isn’t your thing but I think you are _his_ thing. The guy sitting on the cage.”

Cem looks over his shoulder and immediately meets dark eyes checking him out. Ruthlessly even, eyeing him up, from head to toe and back. Even when there’s eye-contact, the guy doesn’t back down, unfazed by Cem catching him staring. Instead, he raises his glass and nods in Cem’s direction.

“What do you think? Hot or not?” Felix asks when Cem’s tongue feels too heavy to move.

 _Way out of his league_ , that’s what Cem thinks. 

He has the shiny hair, the slim but toned body and that’s about all Cem can see in the dim lighting. The fact that he’s Asian also means that there are high chances for perfect skin and little to no body hair. Only a face full of piercings and the tattoos peeking through the see-through sleeves of his shirt set him apart from ticking all the typical boy candy boxes. 

That, and his weirdly intense stare. Cem feels oddly reminded of the look in the eyes of his sister’s cat, mere seconds before that evil little furball attacks him. A shiver crawls up his spine and he looks down instinctively, shrugging it off.

“I guess. For a serial killer.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy! How intimidating can that guy be, he’s small.” Felix turns around on his barstool, making no effort to hide the fact that he’s checking out Mr. Psychopath. “And rude?! He’s not even looking at me. Okay, fuck him.”

That can’t be true. In the three years he has known Felix, the barkeeper has never failed to get the attention of someone he’s set his eye on. Not even once, as far as Cem can remember. But sure enough, when he looks at the stranger again, he’s not checking Felix out.

Their eyes meet again and it’s even more spine-tingling than the first time. Because it means he really has been staring non-stop. Cem shifts his weight, leaning against the bar, trying to find a relaxed position. He can’t and with every second of feeling those eyes on him, it gets harder not to turn the uncomfortable tug in his gut into stubbornness. 

Cem stops avoiding his gaze and faces him head-on, determined not to be one who backs down first this time, to not even blink first, because … just because. 

He needs the guy to give up, so Cem doesn’t have to. But he doesn’t budge. Not even as he lifts his glass and takes a sip from his drink - and starts coughing profusely.

Did he really just choke on his drink?

Yes. Yes, he did. If Cem couldn’t tell precisely through the dim lighting, the people around the cage definitely can. One is the latex lady from earlier and her laugh sounds more catty and bitchy than she looks. He tries not to be embarrassed by that, Cem can tell, but he still rubs his face and runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head. He searches for Cem again, smiling awkwardly.

Well, at least Cem won the unannounced staring contest. Sadly, this doesn’t mean he can get drunk in peace, though. Because now four sets of eyes are directed at him. 

It’s a strange sight and that’s not because of the freakishly high amount of leather they’re all wearing. Well, apart from one - person. Cem can’t tell if it’s a guy or a girl, just that whoever it is shares his preference for baggy clothes, even if they’re not needed. It’s obviously more of a fashion statement, paired with stylishly tousled bleached hair. It doesn’t look like much effort, but Cem knows there’s usually a lot of time going into that out-of-bed look, from all the times he almost pissed his pants, waiting for Felix to come out of the bathroom. Contrary to Felix, this hipster doesn’t seem to care much about his outfit, though. He’s dressed like a middle-aged white guy on his all-inclusive Mallorca vacation, complete with a Hawaiian shirt, cut-offs and Birkenstock sandals. 

Next to that weirdo is a nerdy-looking guy who shoots Cem a shy smile. He seems a little bit out of place, like something is making him uncomfortable. Or maybe that’s just because he reminds Cem of an Italian drinking buddy, who always goes overboard and ends up crying about how he’s afraid of going to hell for not calling his mum for three whole weeks. 

And then there’s the woman from before, leaning against the wall. She’s just as tattooed and pierced as the guy with that serial killer stare, but her eyes look a little more friendly, even if her hand never seems to leave the handle of that whip attached to her belt. Her outfit perfectly matches the dress code, shiny latex and a whole lot of skin. 

Cem can see why a black alternative dominatrix would be friends with an Asian alternative gay man but the two white dudes, who are dressed like Cem could bump into them on the street at any time and not take a second look, don’t fit into that picture at all. From the way they’re exchanging looks and chatting, they seem like a close-knit group, despite being from totally different communities. 

Well, all of _this_ is a community, he supposes. Still more of a cult, though, because even the ones who don’t fit in look oddly relaxed. Everyone apart from Cem.

He’s used to being gawked at, but not that openly and not for a freaking eternity. His hands are beginning to get sweaty and whatever he’s drinking is not strong enough to calm him down. 

“This is getting creepy,” Cem says before he downs the rest of his cocktail in one go, “can we just -”

 _They_ can’t go anywhere, because apparently Felix decided that he can’t have one fucking drink without hitting on someone. Cem’s face falls when he doesn’t find his friend, but a dude in assless chaps standing right next to him. 

His heart starts to race as he scans the crowd and it doesn’t take long until he finds Felix, touching up the biceps of a topless guy in a leather harness with a bright smile on his face like he’s in fucking Candyland and not surrounded by crazy people. 

No chance of going home early then. Sure, he could leave alone, but just the thought of Felix returning hours after him, thoroughly fucked, asking why Cem left early, is enough to make him stay. At least for another drink.

He reaches for the cocktail menu and - almost drops it when a low voice catches him off-guard and a tad too close for comfort. “Mind if I sit down?”

That’s not Felix. And Cem doesn’t know anyone else here. So it’s either someone trying to hit on the bartender or the guy that couldn’t look away. Cem can’t either.

It’s him, standing there with the same excruciating attentive eyes, waiting. 

“Uh, yeah … I mean no, I don’t mind,” Cem says, trying to blink his confusion away. The question seems a bit outdated, even for a normal guy, in a regular bar. He has no idea if it’s an attempt to flirt or if weird gentleman-like manners are just a part of their cult philosophy and he’s definitely not up for another staring contest, so his gaze drops back to the menu after a while. 

“Great. I’m Yunseo, but everybody calls me Yun.” He sits down and from the corner of his eyes, Cem can see that his entire upper body is turned towards him, not anyone else. “I think you’ve noticed my… let’s say interest in you. I’d like to buy you a drink if you’re up for that. Even after my improvised and very involuntary comedy skit… let me tell you, vodka in your nose isn’t pleasant.”

Cem laughs at that, but it sounds a little bit pressed. He’s not used to being hit on, especially not so bluntly and it would make his nerves spike in any place. Here, it’s a thousand times worse. He sits down on the barstool next to Yunseo, he doesn’t have much else to do while he waits for Felix, after all. But it’s hard to keep his knee from bouncing anxiously, every time he has to push unwelcome thoughts away, about all the freaky things this guy is probably into. 

“Sure, why not. I’m always up for free drinks,” he says reluctantly. One of Felix’ hook-ups a few weeks ago wouldn’t shut up about the hanky code at the breakfast table, so Cem knows that there’s a whole science to the way these fetish people communicate. Hopefully he didn’t just accidentally agree to being fisted or something. 

Yunseo chuckles. “So I can buy you a drink but I have to work for your name? I see. Good thing I’m not afraid of a challenge. What do I have to do? Guess your favourite drink?”

It’s not like he was playing hard to get, just that this place turned him into a socially awkward mess who forgot his basic manners. And now that he thinks about it, telling a guy who gave off serial killer vibes a few minutes ago anything about himself, feels dangerous. Yunseo’s smile might be charming, his posture relaxed and the look in his eyes less intense, but there’s still something about him, that makes the hair on the back of Cem’s neck stand up. He tries to cover it up by spreading his legs a little more and nodding like he’s totally used to good-looking guys fighting so hard to get his attention. 

“You can try, but I don’t think you’ll get it right.”

“Probably not,” Yunseo admits but grabs the menu anyway. He takes his time looking at each and every one of the offered drinks, obviously taking this little game seriously. “I’d say I’m usually quite good at reading people, so who knows, maybe it comes in handy now.”

“You mean after staring at them like a serial killer?”

It just slips out of his mouth before Cem can stop himself and he regrets it immediately, pressing his lips together for a second as soon as it’s out. Even if he can’t spot any torture implements hanging from Yunseo’s belt, it’s probably still best not to get on his bad side. 

“I’d hope I’m _not_ looking like a serial killer but just like an interested D-type but yeah, I can’t help but stare from time to time. It’s just interesting, trying to get a sense of the bigger picture.” He turns his attention to Cem, a smile tugging on his lips. “For you, my first instinct was that it’s your first time here, not just because you looked lost but also because you didn’t bother showing off anything. It’s unusual for events like this.”

Cem smiles back at him, pretending that he knows exactly what Yunseo is talking about, even if he doesn’t understand shit. The only thing he knows is that those words have a strange ring to them, weirdly polite and predatory at the same time. It’s giving him chills, paired with Yunseo’s undivided attention, now that he knows for sure that he’s being observed and analysed. It makes Cem want to show off, even if it’s obvious that he stumbled in here by accident. 

“One of your friends looked normal, though. And I don’t see you posing with a whip either.”

“You don’t know what I’m hiding in my pockets, though.” Yunseo raises his eyebrows suggestively and tilts his head. It has a challenging touch, almost an invitation for friendly banter and serious flirtation - until he backs off with an amused huff. “Just kidding. Tell me if I’m too straight-forward, alright? I like to tease but I’ll stop if you’re new to all of this.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cem says, even though it’s really not. Nothing about that was straight-forward and something about it made him feel funny. It fades away quickly, after a few seconds of awkward silence and fidgeting in his chair. “So, what are you hiding in your pockets?”

Nothing in his pants besides his cellphone and wallet, apparently. Yunseo pulls more out of his jacket pocket, though. A crinkled flyer, a condom, an extra set of thick shoelaces and a handful of clothespins.

“Anticlimactic, right? I should’ve brought a flogger just in case I want to impress someone. Or a pinwheel to continue the creepy and dangerous aesthetic.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Cem laughs, continuing his little game of playing pretend just for the sake of it, despite the voice of reason somewhere in the back of his mind screaming that this could end very fucking badly. 

“What’s in yours? I’m still nowhere near guessing your favourite drink. I wanted to say something laid-back and easy like a beer because of your clothes but I can’t rule out something sweet yet. I need more clues.” He thrums his fingers on the counter, faking impatience, even if there is no sign of annoyance on his face whatsoever, just honest interest.

That will change soon. Cem stares at him helplessly for a moment, trying to come up with a way to avoid unloading his pockets, but he can’t exactly say no now if he doesn’t want to come off as boring. He gets his wallet and his phone out, briefly considering to stop there, but it’s obviously not everything and those attentive eyes definitely wouldn’t miss that.

Cem reluctantly pulls out a never-ending number of crumpled up receipts, a bunch of chocolate bar wrappers, used tissues and a half-eaten pack of raspberry fizzy drops. The only thing on his pile of shame that’s remotely cool and impressive is a swiss army knife. He’s only ever used the bottle opener, but Yunseo doesn’t need to know that. 

“Messy.” Cem has no idea why Yunseo’s voice sounds intrigued and not at least slightly taken aback by the sight of his dried-up snot. “And sweet things. So beer’s off the table, too bitter. I hope it’s not Vodka Ahoj because that shit is intense but… I can picture you being into weird and wild things. You’re stubborn, so you probably could drink things that feel like they’re burning your tongue off.”

“It’s not that bad.” Cem frowns because it’s not sitting right with him that Yunseo got it right. And so fucking effortlessly too. At least he’s not being smug about it. It’s just a drink and Cem doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that Yunseo wasn’t lying when he said that he’s good at reading people. It’s not like he’s got anything to hide. 

“Okay, you won,” he says, rolling his eyes, ”I’m Cem.”

Yunseo doesn’t even try to hide his surprise - and then, his winning grin. 

“I like your expression right now, Cem. Are you annoyed I got it?” He asks needlessly. Both of them already know the answer to that and Yunseo rubbing it in bugs Cem even more. “Cute. So… if you like drinking something that actually hurts, my next bet is that you’re a masochist. You also seemed very interested in Zola’s whip and when I do that-” He pauses and plays with the clothespins in front of him, opening one of them and slowly moving closer to Cem’s hand, “do you get excited and want to show off or are you not interested at all?”

“Excited about what? It’s just a clothespin.” Cem huffs and snatches it out of Yunseo’s hand, putting it on his fingers one by one, like he sometimes does at home, when he’s bored and procrastinating his laundry. “Is today your laundry day or something?”

“No. I usually take things with me that I could use in a hookup that aren’t too heavy or too out there. Clothespins for pain, shoelaces for tying their wrists.” Yunseo holds out his hand for the clothespin Cem played with. “Not the best spots you chose there, at least not if you want to inflict pain.”

Cem gives it back to him with an amused frown.

“Clothespins don’t hurt.” 

At least not enough to even feel anything over the slight buzz of alcohol. Yunseo was right, this is a bit anticlimactic. Not nearly as impressive as his friend's whip. Maybe these people just like to show off, but when it comes down to it, the things they do are pretty tame, nothing he hasn’t seen before in _Fifty Shades of Gay_.

“Oh, they do.” He points the clothespin at Cem’s hand. “I could show you.”

Cem hesitates for a second but ends up holding his hand out anyway. He’s played drinking games that were a lot worse than this, so there’s no reason to get scared. Or excited. Cem tries to convince himself that he’s not the least bit excited about this because that would be ridiculous. 

It works, his breathing calms down again. As long as he avoids Yunseo’s eyes at least. 

“Your nervousness makes me wonder,” Yunseo whispers against the music, still loud enough for Cem to hear. Yunseo slides closer to him, sitting on the edge of his barstool now, and Cem doesn’t know how to feel about that. Or about Yunseo’s cold fingers on his warm skin, fingertips running over the back of Cem’s hand, his fingers, to his palm, almost leaving a stinging feel. “If you have any experience whatsoever. Or if you’re just pretending to be all stubborn and on top but still want somebody to dominate you. Or if you’re just really into me. ”

Yunseo smirks, unable to hide his amusement. It shows in his voice, too, deep and so fucking smug. “Or all of that, who knows. Now’s not the time for that. Now I just want to prove my point and maybe… maybe see you flinch, just a little. It won’t hurt much."

He feels up the space between Cem’s thumb and index finger for a couple of seconds before he attaches the clothespin. His attention lays on Cem’s face and he feels watched, observed, scrutinized even. Yunseo is waiting for the response he wants, the flinch, the twitch, something that shows him that he won their little game.

“Does it hurt? Not much, I guess, you have strong hands. But what about if I do that,” he says and puts pressure on the clothespin, intensifying the sensation. “That should hit your pressure point.”

Cem has no idea what a pressure point is but that doesn’t prevent him from feeling the rush of pain and adrenaline shooting through his hand unexpectedly. He sucks air through his teeth and rips his hand out of Yunseo’s loose grip. When he rubs the spot between his thumb and index finger, there’s nothing but a dull throb left. It’s faint and doesn’t explain why his heart won’t stop racing. It should have when the initial shock was over. He forces a smile anyway, even if it’s too late to pretend to be totally unimpressed.

“Well yeah, that hurt. How did you know? Are you a doctor? Or one of those creepy dudes who stick needles into people’s faces to open their chakra flow or something?”

“No, I’m not a doctor. I’m a sadist,” Yunseo says with such casualness that Cem asks himself if he’s proud of the fact. “So I know how to hurt someone. Safely, of course.”

Maybe Cem forgot where he is for a moment and maybe he even started to enjoy the attention a little bit more than he should. How matter-of-factly Yunseo states that he likes hurting people definitely serves as a good reminder that it’s not the kind of attention he should want. 

Cem laughs nervously, pretending to mistake it for dry humour, even though he knows Yunseo was probably dead serious. 

“So, are you having one with me?” He asks, pointing at the fizzy drops, quick to change the topic. Vodka Ahoj will be perfect to take his mind off the strange feeling in his stomach, whenever he catches Yunseo’s eyes, while he says weird things Cem doesn’t understand. 

After going through all of this, he definitely deserves a free drink. And that’s it. One drink and then he’ll go, no matter if Felix shows up by then or not. 

“Yes, why not. You were open for the clothespins, I should be open for that.” Yunseo is quick to put the clothespins and the shoelace away before he orders two shots of vodka. He pushes one to Cem and grabs a couple of the fizzy tablets, not looking too fond of them. “I’m ready to be disgusted whenever you are.”

“One should be enough if you don’t want to throw up,” Cem says, taking the rest out of Yunseo’s hands and popping one into his own mouth. He sucks on it until it starts to prickle, then takes his shot of Vodka, pulling a face somewhere between a satisfied grin and a pained grimace. The sugary mess keeps fizzling on his tongue and the burn is so strong that it’s almost bringing tears to his eyes, but Cem loves every disgusting second of it. 

Unlike Yunseo, who seems to hate every second of it. His whole face is scrunched up, his eyes closed and his lips pressed together firmly, swallowing and swallowing like the drink is multiplying in his mouth. He waves at the bartender without looking, pointing at his mouth.

The bartender laughs at him when he places the water in front of Yunseo and pats his shoulder like he’s comforting an overly dramatic child. Cem can’t blame him, Yunseo looks like he’s absolutely done with life. His eyes are teary and his face flushed.

“I hate this so much,” he says and takes the tiniest sip of his water, “I’ve won our little game earlier but you broke me. I hope you’re happy.”

He is and he makes no secret of it. Five minutes ago he wouldn’t have expected that anything here could help him overcome his strange gut feeling and make him grin so brightly, but seeing a guy who tried so hard to be cool break down like this helps a lot, actually. It makes him more human, stripping away a bit of whatever he had about him, that made it hard to stay still in his company before. He’s not giving off serial killer vibes anymore and Cem finds himself relaxing, propping his head up on one hand and turning to face Yunseo fully for the first time, without scanning the crowd for Felix every other second. 

“Yeah, I’m happy. Want another one?” He offers sarcastically, holding the leftover fizzy drops out to Yunseo. 

Yunseo raises his eyebrows at that. In confusion first, but some sort of appreciation second. It looks like he is impressed in a way, happy that Cem slowly crawls out of his shell. He grins and nods, confidently taking a fizzy drop. “So, you like seeing me suffer? You’re a mystery, Cem, I give you that. I might have to watch out that you don’t steal a whip and start torturing me.” 

“Yeah, I’m just getting you drunk so I can kidnap you and lock you up in my basement,” Cem says after they took their second shot, snorting with laughter from watching Yunseo’s reaction. 

“And then you’ll force me to drink vodka Ahoj until my dying breath? Who’s the serial killer here? The last time I did a kidnapping, all the person got were forced orgasms.”

Another thing Cem loves about this drink is that it gets you absolutely hammered in no time at all. So he laughs at first because his foggy brain needs a moment to process what Yunseo just said and then he chokes on air, when it finally sinks in. 

Which in return, makes Yuseo laugh and gently pat his back.

“There’s a lot you need to learn.” He takes his hand away as soon as Cem stops coughing, wrapping it around his water glass instead. “I’m not going to lie, I think it’s quite cute how easily shocked you are, but just to be perfectly clear: obviously it was consensual kidnapping play and they enjoyed it. Nobody was harmed. I hope this - I hope I am not scaring you away from BDSM, there’s lots of stuff you can do that doesn’t involve being thrown into the back of a van.”

Cem stares at him and tries to picture the guy who just had a coughing fit from a bit of fizzy powder kidnapping somebody. He just can’t see it. First of all, Yunseo doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’d even be able to throw somebody into a van, he’s too small, too weak. And then it’s just too absurd. So he just decides to ignore it and tell himself that Yunseo must have a very special kind of dry humour. 

“You wouldn’t be able to lift me up, so I’m not scared,” he says jokingly, even though it’s the truth. An uncomfortable one, but it always feels better to be the first one to bring up his weight anyway. Hopefully Yunseo will just laugh it off like Cem does and not make it awkward. 

Yunseo eyes Cem up one more time and smiles.

“Don’t underestimate me. I’ve played with bigger guys and girls than you. I couldn’t lift them up, no, but I dragged them across the floor and-“ He pauses, blinking as if he was about to say something that he shouldn’t. And he doesn’t. “You shouldn’t be scared, I mean. Not of me and not of BDSM in general. You know, this kind of club usually doesn’t have the best consent out there and there are stupid people pretending to know shit about BDSM when they don’t. But most people are genuinely interested in keeping each other safe and having a good time.”

Stupid people like Cem. He still doesn’t know shit about whatever Yunseo is talking about, but he just sits through it smiling and nodding, like he totally understands where he’s coming from. Someone not treating him like he’s dumb after hearing his name is rare as it is and Cem is determined to keep it at that, even if that means he has to pretend to know all about freaky fetishes.

“Yeah, it’s all cool, don’t worry. I’m having a good time.” 

“I’m glad. I just want to make sure that I’m not coming on too strong because I know you’re not that experienced and I am… well, I _am_ ,” he chuckles, “and I haven’t flirted with someone new-ish to all of this in quite a long time, so I might fuck it up majorly.”

There’s a lot coming out of Yunseo’s mouth but all Cem hears is _flirted_. It’s hard to keep a straight face at that, despite the warmth slowly spreading through his body. It’s clouding his brain too, when he finally tries to process the rest of what Yunseo just said and before Cem knows what’s happening, there’s a wave of total bullshit bubbling out of his mouth like a switch was flicked in his head.

“I’m not new-ish.” Which is not a _complete_ lie. He’s not _new-ish_ , he’s an absolutely terrified fresh out of the womb newborn baby choking on his own breath, compared to the people around him. But saying that would probably turn Yunseo off, so Cem just keeps talking, crossing the line to flat-out lying in somebody’s face like it’s nothing. 

“I could easily do that,” Cem says and points at the flyer Yunseo left on the bar when he emptied out his pockets. He hasn’t even taken a proper look at it, until now. It’s a job ad, some kind of professional torture master looking for a personal assistant to - do whatever. He’s too drunk to decipher the small print, but how hard can all of this be, really? 

“Could you?” Yun grabs the flyer and keeps quiet for a while, reading it. When he looks at Cem again, he can’t help but grin. “I don’t really see you taking orders all day, though. Or answering pretty explicit emails and phone calls.”

“Why not? I’ve got no problem _talking_ about sex, just -” _having it_ is the problem. But he’s definitely not drunk enough to talk about that with a total stranger, so Cem snaps his mouth shut, smiles and shrugs it off. “They’d be lucky to have me as their … secretary or whatever.”

“So you wouldn’t feel weird listening to fantasies from strangers and explaining to them whether or not your boss could fulfill them?” Yunseo asks as if he already knows Cem’s answer - as if he’s sure to get a negative response. “What if somebody desperately wants to be, let’s say… be used as a toilet? No problems at all, imagining your boss doing that to someone?”

Cem’s laughter dies out quickly when Yunseo is not joining in and he realizes it wasn’t a joke. Keeping his face under control is hard, especially with the buzz from the alcohol getting stronger and he has no idea if he’ll be able to pull this off much longer. 

“Well … who doesn’t think about their boss taking a shit from time to time?”

That earns him a sound from Yunseo that’s somewhere between a giggle and a snort. “What does your boss do to get you there? Is he an utter asshole and you just wish you’d find him in an awkward position like that?”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole who thinks I’m stealing from him. He’s probably gonna call the police next time there are three cents missing because I accidentally gave somebody too much change.”

“I worked as a cashier one time in my life and got fired after two weeks because I was too slow. I know some people would think this,” he wiggles the flyer around, “is hell but to me, it’s being a cashier. Are you doing it because you’re financing your study or because you just like to suffer?”

“I’m just a masochist, I guess,” Cem says, followed by an amused huff. There’s a time and a place for cracking lame jokes about freaky fetishes and it’s later in the safety of his room, while he’s having some kind of greasy midnight snack with Felix. Not right here, right now. That’s more like playing with fire - which is a fun thing to do, in Cem’s drunk mind. 

Yunseo raises his eyebrows and that alone feels like a challenge. He places his elbow on the counter and rests his chin in his palm, purposefully staring Cem to the ground. “You guess. So tell me, what’s your favourite kind of pain?”

Cem stares back at him, frowning and licking his lips to buy time. The question makes no sense and it feels like a trap, with Yunseo’s eyes drilling into him as if a bit of harmless, playful flirting just turned into an interrogation.

“Uhm … the kind that … hurts?!”

“You’re really cute.” Yunseo smiles and reaches his hand out to Cem’s knee, nudging it for a millisecond. Cem wouldn’t have felt it if he hadn’t followed Yunseo’s movement. “But you don’t have to try to impress me by pretending to know it all.”

“I’m not trying to impress you,” Cem says and it sounds pissed in an awfully childish way, even in his own ears. He squares his shoulders, getting ready to go into a full-blown rant, already knowing he’ll regret it in a minute. “I _could_ do that job. I mean, how hard can it be to take phone calls and write e-mails?! Just because I work as a cashier right now, doesn’t mean I’m dumb. My spelling is actually really good.”

Yunseo blinks - and blinks again, taken aback by Cem’s tiny temper tantrum. “Uhm, that’s not what I wanted to imply. Like I said… I worked as a cashier and I failed miserably, so obviously I don’t think cashiers are dumb in any way. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to offend you.” He straightens up and smiles. It’s not as amused and authentic as before, even a tad insecure, cautious. “I’m sure you could do that job if you wanted to, you just seem - well, I believe you. I’m sorry I didn’t, it’s not my place to judge your experience based on anything.”

“Yeah,” Cem says without hesitation at first, still pissed, until it finally clicks that Yunseo is talking about something completely different. It’s about his weird fetish stuff, not about thinking a guy who’s half-Turkish would be unable to write an email without a bunch of spelling mistakes. 

“Uh. Yeah, no problem,” he adds a lot calmer than before, even if his nerves are rising up again, now that his short moment of thinking Yunseo is just an arrogant, privileged asshole is over. He’s back to being a nice, good-looking guy who’s flirting with him and Cem is back to lying his way through it, like he always does. Even if it means implying that he has experience in... whatever. 

“I mean - do you _want_ the job?” Yunseo asks and slides the flyer over to Cem. He still has this confused expression on his face, the obvious question of what exactly happened on his mind. “You could apply. It’s decently paid - but the work hours can suck if you’re more the nine to five type of guy.”

“Ugh no, I hate getting up early. Night shifts are perfect,” Cem says as he takes another look at the flyer, talking more to himself than Yunseo. Tomorrow he will probably think this is absolutely crazy, but in a nice and fuzzy boozed-up headspace, everything is possible and getting _decently paid_ for answering the phone seems very appealing. 

“It’s more like… very flexible, I’d need you whenever I have appointments that day. Those can vary quite a bit but _usually_ they’re not in the morning. Most people get their ass beat on the weekends and at night.”

“Yeah, who wants to get their ass beat first thing in the morning, huh?” Cem snorts again and if he wasn’t drunk, he’d care about how unattractive his laugh sounds when he doesn’t keep himself in check. A few more shots of vodka really helped with not giving a fuck, but they also slowed his thoughts down so much, that he has a very belated epiphany moment. 

“Wait, did you just say _you_ would need me? Are you seriously offering me a job right now?”

Yunseo shrugs but the growing grin on his face tells Cem two things: 1) he _is_ seriously considering giving Cem a job he’s not qualified for and 2) Yunseo might regret it once the alcohol doesn’t turn everything into something so incredibly easy. 

“I don’t know… to be honest, I didn’t expect offering you a job tonight, I expected to get your number for… different things if I’m totally blunt - but it seemed important to you? Obviously we would have to talk more but - if you’re interested in it?”

“Hell, yeah?!” Cem shouts in disbelief and with more enthusiasm than he showed in the past days combined, maybe even in weeks. And that’s because it’s been a while since the last time he could talk somebody into having vodka Ahoj with him and got _this_ drunk. 

It’s not dangerous yet, the room isn’t spinning and he’s not falling from his chair, he’s not puking all over the shiny leather shoes which could belong to his future boss and he’s even successfully navigating an interview! Cem feels oddly proud, smiling to himself for a few seconds before there’s one last spark of reason in his brain.

“But I wouldn’t have to … uhm … like … _do_ things, right? I mean … I can do stuff, I can do everything, clean the toilet, whatever, but I don’t want to like … _be_ the toilet, you know?!”

“What? No, of course not!” Yunseo laughs, shaking his head. “You’d be my _assistant_ , not my client. Or submissive. Or bottom.” It’s weird how for maybe a second, Cem believes he hears mild disappointment in Yunseo’s voice. It doesn’t make any sense, though, and it doesn’t fit Yunseo’s smile either. “You’re not applying to be my toilet, Cem. You’d just be the person to help me not lose my mind because it’s hard to keep track of everything sometimes.”

“I can do that,” Cem says confidently, nodding like a bobble-head doll. Maybe it’s not only to make a good impression but also to convince himself that this is a good idea. He’s almost entirely sure, though. If he has to choose between another humiliating hook-up that’s going to leave his ego irreparably broken and a job that’s going to help him not to lose his own mind because of night shifts at a gas station fucking suck - he’s taking the job. 

“Yeah, I’m good at … that,” he says, gesturing because he already forgot what Yunseo just said, but he’s still sure he’s one hundred percent able to do whatever, “all of it. I am a man of many talents!” 

“You are? Okay, let’s have a test-run. I’m a very clueless but eager guy and I’m calling you, right?” Yunseo wiggles his eyebrows, chiming into Cem’s stupidity. He even goes so far to hold his hand to his ear, thumb and little finger spread, mimicking a phone - and changing his voice to an almost shy tone. “I’ve been on your homepage and I’m very, very intrigued by CBT… but I have no idea what to expect. What could a potential scene look like?”

“Well …”

Fuck. Who could’ve known that the guy who casually offered him a job in between shots at the bar would suddenly start to take it seriously and do a real interview?! One that includes fucking _method acting._ Or roleplay, which is probably what these people do, in a way, but still - Cem has always been terrible at acting, it has always made him want to vanish into thin air and the fact that he has no clue what Yunseo is talking about doesn’t help. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, fidgets on his chair, licks his lips and then finally, the only way out pops into his head.

“Sorry, I have to pee really bad, I’ll be right back!” 

Yunseo probably feels like he’s stuck in a comedy of some sort, he looks like it. He tilts his head and looks at Cem from head to toe and back as if that could potentially give him the answer to Cem’s real problem. It isn’t his bladder. And Yunseo seems to get a hint but nods anyway, shouting “Alright, have fun!” as Cem leaves, stumbling backward, watching Yunseo cringe visibly.

Which means he absolutely has to _shine_ when he comes back. And he’s sure he will, because he has a genius plan - pretending that he’s taking a really long piss, so he can google CBT and a bunch of other stuff Yunseo might bring up. Like … other … fetish … things …

Well, this is already a little bit harder than he thought it would be, but nothing that a man of many talents like him can’t manage. The only thing preventing him from sucking the knowledge from his phone right into his long-term memory is the distracting noise, when he finally manages to find an empty bathroom stall and sits down on the toilet in slow motion. Because his assessment from before was wrong - the room is spinning a little. 

“Cognitive Behaviour Therapy? What the hell?!”

Cem stares at his screen, squinting because the letters keep blurring out. Even after reading it out loud he can’t believe what CBT is supposed to mean. That can’t be right. Unless he was right along and this really is a cult. They love all that therapy stuff. 

“If you need something to read to shit, I’d recommend something that does not remind you of all your problems, dude. But I’d also probably… pull my pants down and close the freaking door, you know? Usually helps to... _let it go_.”

The voice comes from right in front of his stall and the guy - Cem swallows the urge to call him Elsa - is right. He’s sitting there out in the open, on full display to be judged by someone fixing his hair and staring at him through the mirror.

He’s so sick of all those people with perfectly styled hair in skinny jeans, telling him what to do. And he misses his best friend because Felix would know what to do. Cem reaches out to close the door, but stops mid-way, thinking that maybe being extremely knowledgeable about weird fetishes is a thing all hot dudes with trendy hairstyles have in common.

“Hey, do you know what CBT is?”

“Are you asking me for a quickie?”

“No?! I mean not that you’re not hot like I would totally …” Cem makes a limp gesture up and down the other man’s body, which is just as fit and muscular as any other guy here and the only thing that makes Cem feel slightly better about himself is that this one is at least unusually small. “I’d hit that, but I’m kind of in the middle of something right now, so no thanks.”

“Alright, cool - but what exactly are you kind of in the middle of?”

The perfect opportunity to ramble about this crazy job interview, cry for help and squeeze all the knowledge out of someone who, from the looks of it, isn’t new and pathetically clueless. Cem takes a deep breath and - gets interrupted by a particularly loud moan from the stall next to him before he can say anything. He tries not to think about how somebody is obviously having satisfying sex right next to him, inhales another time and - stops again, realising why those sounds didn’t bother him before, why they were strangely familiar...

“Felix?!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Cem, please just-” Felix groans, followed by a hiss. It’s not like Cem wants to get a very vivid picture of what is happening there but there’s no escaping the wet, sloppy sounds interrupting Felix’s sentence. “... I’m busy.”

“Please tell me he’s your boyfriend,” the guy at the sink says with way too much excitement in his voice, sliding on top of the sink, letting his feet dangle as if this situation isn’t awkward at all.

“Nah, just my roommate,” Cem says, trying very hard not to picture Felix getting his dick sucked by - whoever. It’s probably the topless ripped guy from before. He just hopes Felix doesn’t bring him home, he’s already annoyed even thinking about having his hangover breakfast with another random stranger who looks like he could be on the cover of a magazine. 

“Why do you know what the moans of your roomie sound like?” The guy asks right at the moment Felix loses the fight to suppress another gut-wrenching moan that sounds like he’s incredibly close to his orgasm. It makes the guy giggle. “Whoa, who’s in there with you? Sounds good! Little wondermouth, huh? We’re jealous!”

Jealous as in him and Cem, apparently, as he waves at him.

“I’m not jealous?!” He’s quick to protest, even if it’s not entirely true. He’s not jealous because it’s Felix, _of course,_ but it’s been a while since he’s had a really satisfying orgasm and the one Felix is building up to sounds nice. “Have fun, Felix and … whoever!” 

Cem didn’t expect an answer, especially not right after those half-suppressed moans started sounding like Felix is getting _really_ close - but then they stop and the answer does come, in a voice that is surprisingly scratchy and shy.

“Matteo. Hi.”  
  
Well, Cem has no idea who Matteo is, but he definitely doesn’t sound like a ripped fetish underwear model. 

He also doesn’t sound like a dying animal of some sort. However, Felix does, spurting out a weird mixture of aggressive groans and really, really pathetic whines. 

“What. The. _Fuck_ ,” Felix presses out, breathing heavily. 

“Did you really just stop giving him head to introduce yourself? Nice! Matteo, hi. I’m Oliver and I’m very entertained,” the guy on the sink - Oliver - giggles without any reluctance whatsoever. Cem thought Felix is shameless but apparently, there’s someone whose manners are even worse.

“Can you just _fuck off_? Cem! Get lost?!” Felix is close to losing it, the small wooden wall separating their stalls starts shaking when he’s letting himself fall against it with the angriest sigh there ever was, imitating his hookup. “Matteo. _Hi_. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“What if he needs to take a shit, bro. Don’t be so rude.” Oliver looks at Cem and wiggles his eyebrows, clearly having the time of his life.

He doesn’t need to take a shit, but he’ll have to pretend he took one because this is taking forever and he’s still nowhere near close to ready to go back out there and face his potential new boss who thinks he’s super experienced in the things these people do. 

They’re obviously crazy. Not only Yunseo, who offered him a job out of nowhere but also the guy who says something about how it would’ve been rude not to answer before he goes right back to sucking Felix’ dick. 

The slurping sounds are obscenely loud. You can’t help but picture what is happening in the stall next to him and at least one of them seems to enjoy that immensely, because Oliver is showing no sign that he’s about to leave, still sitting on the edge of the sink all relaxed and entertained. Cem would be too, if it wasn’t Felix moaning like he’s getting close again. That probably makes it a bit cringy. No, definitely. The only reason he’s still here, is because he can’t leave without an answer.

“So CBT is a quickie or what?!” Cem tries to keep his voice down, throwing another puzzled look at Oliver but before he can say anything, the noises next door stop again.

“No, it’s cock and ball torture.”

“MATTE-”

The “O” comes equally surprised and absolutely terrified, Felix’s voice hoarse and high-pitched. Cem has never heard him like that before and God knows how many orgasmic moans traveled through their thin walls before. What he’s hearing now is the cry of a man probably done with life - and definitely done with sexy time. Almost pitiful sobs fill the bathroom and then there’s furious breathing like Felix is about to throw a major fit. It’s confusing as hell and almost exhausting to listen to.

“And that was a ruined orgasm,” Matteo says, interrupted by the most awkward laugh Cem has ever heard. “Sorry. I got some in my eye, though. So … we’re even?!”

“No,” Felix almost shouts back even if he tries his best to control the volume of his voice, Cem can tell. He can practically see Felix struggling for his usual coolness, the relaxed posture, the macho attitude. It doesn’t work. Felix is still offended, embarrassed - and very quick to close his zipper and flee out of the bathroom.

“Wow, what a drama queen,” Oliver snorts, “will our wondermouth come out too and teach us a lesson or is the show over?”

It takes Matteo a lot longer to come out of the stall, but when he does, Cem immediately recognizes him as the only normal-looking guy in Yunseo’s friend group from before. Up close, Matteo looks even smaller and like he definitely has some extra fat that he tries to hide under baggy black clothes. And he’s practically covered in cum. It’s everywhere, one long streak all across his flushed face, a few drops on his sweater and even some in his disheveled brown hair. Weird that Felix would go for someone like him and not one of the countless ripped guys in tight leather pants. He quickly avoids the irritated look Cem throws at him and rushes over to the sink to wash up.

“Your roomie dropped a major load. Poor fucking guy, looks like he’s been waiting to have his balls emptied for a while.” Oliver leans over to Matteo as much as he can, trying to get a good glance at his face. “Do you need help? I won’t mind taking a closer look at the devil himself.

Matteo shakes his head and the look on his face is mortified, like he wants to sink through the floor and disappear. Cem can see it through the mirror. It’s hard to miss, with his cheeks and ears glowing bright red. He seems awfully shy now, which is even weirder, because Felix is everything but. 

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s hooking up with guys all the time. Probably has his dick sucked at least three times a week,” Cem says, his voice drifting off at the end, while he tries to recall how often Felix bragged about getting the hottest blowjob ever this week. This one probably doesn’t count. “So, what you just did, is that what CBT is?”

“No, that’s a ruined orgasm,” Matteo repeats quietly, but with a hint of annoyance, before he goes back to rinsing his reddened eye out. 

“But you said it’s cock and ball torture - that totally sounded like torture?!”

Oliver moves back, quietly giving Matteo time and space to get rid of Felix’ cum. He struggles to look away, though, eyes finding the small man every two seconds. When he does manage to stop staring, he looks at Cem and grins.

“True. But imagine your bro bound and having his dick bitten or slapped or covered in hot wax or his balls trampled. I think he’d cry a little louder then.”

“Bound … bitten … slapped … hot wax … balls trampled … crying,” Cem mumbles to himself, as he takes notes on his phone. Most of them only vaguely resemble the words he just said, but it’s enough to remind himself, should his drunken brain decide to have a total blackout on his way back to the bar. “Got it. Anything else?”

“There’s also electro, sounding, ball stretchers, weights, squeezing, flogging …” Matteo gestures as if he could go on forever and only stops because his eye started burning again, prompting him to lean back over and rinse it out for what must be the tenth time. 

“Matteo. I think I need your number.” Oliver is quick to take his phone out and slide it over. He doesn’t even bother looking at Cem when he speaks again, words clearly directed at him anyway. “And I also think you should ask your partner what he wants to do to your junk.”

“No, no, it’s for a job interview,” Cem says, only realising how absurd it sounds after the words left his mouth. He’s the only one who seems to notice, because Oliver is still eye-fucking Matteo, who takes the phone with a flustered smile and saves his number. 

If this is the only bar in Berlin where everyone is all over shy nerds, Cem definitely has to come here more often. Even if there’s a risk of getting his balls trampled, squeezed, crushed and whatever else. His notes are a mess, but it seems like the only thing these people _don’t_ do to genitalia is setting them on fire. And he’s not even one hundred percent sure about that.

The look Yunseo throws him when he comes back from his very long bathroom break, definitely makes Cem wonder if his potential new boss is already thinking about torturing him. Part of him wants to turn around and try to squeeze himself through the bathroom window, but he’s too stubborn to let that part win. Too stubborn and too drunk. 

The place got even more crowded while he was gone and he keeps bumping into people left and right. When he’s finally there, keeping his balance while climbing back on his barstool turns out to be a whole work-out, leaving him slightly out of breath. 

“Sorry, that it took me so long.” He shoots Yunseo an apologetic smile, racking his hazy brain for an excuse other than puking or shitting his guts out. Not that he has to worry about being attractive anymore, but he still needs to impress the guy to land that job. “My mum called. She was in a car accident. Really bad … I mean not _that_ bad, she’s fine, I just had to … uh … calm her down. So … uhm … where were we?”

Yunseo shakes his head, expression unsure whether or not he should believe Cem. There’s a definite doubt in his eyes, slightly narrowed to look right through Cem’s lie. He’s sure Yunseo will just tell him to straight-up fuck off and not waste his time with stupid excuses, but he doesn’t. He just tilts his head towards the exit. 

“Do you need to go see your mother? We can talk about the job another time, it’s okay.”

Weirdly enough, he doesn’t sound so convinced saying that, almost as if he’s expecting never to talk to Cem again. 

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it! She’s asleep now. I’m good to go!”  
  
The overly enthusiastic shouting earns him a few funny looks, but Cem barely notices them. He’s hyper-focused on getting that job and doesn’t waste a single thought on why the hell becoming an accomplice to genital torture is so freaking important to him all of a sudden. 

“Oh, we were talking about _cock and ball torture_ , right?!” 

Cem tries to make it sound casual, not at all like a proud student who just repeated a fancy word the teacher mentioned in class, with no idea what it actually means. He’s not entirely sure if he succeeded, though. 

“Uh, yeah. I asked you what you’d tell a potential client that’s interested in CBT but doesn’t know what a scene might look like,” Yunseo says, still skeptical. But at least there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Uh huh, I’m good!” Cem gives him a thumbs up and the brightest smile he can possibly manage, to distract from the way he glances at his phone every other second. He definitely overestimated his ability to read those notes even five minutes later. They are practically indecipherable. He has no idea what _bro bnd an dikc bites hot OUHC_ is supposed to mean. 

“So, uh … I’d tell him that uhm, he can expect … pain! Like … a lot? … a lot of pain. In the uhm … you know … crotch area. From like … slapping and squeezing and crushing and uh … oh! Wax. Hot wax.” 

He might have gotten off to a bit of a rough start there, but by the end of it, Cem is smiling confidently, pleased with himself and absolutely convinced that he got everything right. That had to be everything. They’re still talking about sex, after all, not rocket science. Even if he does feel a bit like he’s taking a surprise exam. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s not entirely wrong.” Why is Yunseo sounding like a father comforting his child after they attempted to draw a superhero but only succeeded to doodle a stickman? Cem can’t even be sure if he’s genuine about it or not, Yunseo’s voice is friendly but also pitiful and his face, well, still at least a bit scary. Especially up close when he leans over the counter to ask for a notepad and a pen.

“Without the stuttering, the pauses and the insecurity. If you sound like you’re scared of what you’re talking about, they will be scared as well. And probably feel like what they’re into is sick:”

Yunseo scribbles something onto the paper Cem can’t see properly. He thinks of scooting over to take a better look but decides otherwise as soon as their eyes meet. 

“Are you scared of what you’re into, Cem, or are you just a little too drunk?”

The question takes him off guard. He breathes in to answer immediately, but can’t get a word out for a good while, wondering what the hell it is, that makes it so hard to talk to Yunseo and how he can still feel weirdly nice and fuzzy at the same time, when he’s lost for words and staring open-mouthed.

“Scared? No, what would I be scared of? I’m just drunk. Not too much, though. Just a little bit … okay, maybe a little bit too much,” Cem laughs it off when he finally breaks out of his stupor. “But I really want the job! I can talk about it like it’s not sick, no problem.”

“I can tell you want the job,” Yun says matter-of-factly, not even hesitating one second before he acknowledges Cem’s desperation like it’s nothing. “I just can’t tell if you’re suited for it. The alcohol might be the reason why you’re behaving like you’re about to burst, but you could also be closeminded and think we’re all freaks here.”

Yunseo turns around on his barstool, facing Cem directly and without a flicker of insecurity. He comes closer again, just enough to be able to talk quietly, breath warm and sweet in Cem’s nose.

“Or you could be clueless, in denial or scared shitless. Or all of that. I don’t know. I want to and I probably will find out sooner or later. Because I’m down to meet up when you’re sober and talk about that job. But I expect you to not waste my time. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Cem says and clears his throat, because his voice was too quiet before, too soft and on the verge of breaking. “Sure.” 

Another lie, he’s lost count of how many times he lied instinctively today. The only thing he’s sure about is that he wants this job for some reason, wants it so bad that he catches himself shooting a pleading look at Yunseo. Cem looks away, hoping it was quick enough to go unnoticed. 

Just like the fact that he _does_ think he’s surrounded by freaks. But he also thinks it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care whose toilet he’s cleaning, as long as it’s someone who pays well and doesn’t yell at him every chance he gets. Everything is better than boring himself to death behind the counter of a deserted gas station five nights a week. 

That must be it. He’s just bored and starved for some excitement. 

“Sure,” Yunseo repeats slowly, putting no effort into hiding the fact that he knows it won’t be easy for Cem to be all relaxed about whatever he’s doing in his torture chamber. He knows and he seems to have fun doing so. However, when he starts smiling this time around, it doesn’t seem odd in any way, only friendly and maybe a bit smug. “Sure sounds like something I can work with.”

He stands up and puts his jacket on immediately, obviously ready to call it quits for the night. It seems like he is not even going to say goodbye or tell Cem anything about how this is supposed to go, phone at his ear and wallet in his hand. Then, he puts money in front of Cem - money and the little note from before.

“I called you a cab. Get home safely.” He taps on the note. “I’ll meet you tomorrow then. I expect you to be sober and on time. If you can’t make it or decide you do not want to work for me, let me know. Also… extra points if you bring snacks, I’m always hungry after a session.”

Yunseo chuckles and waves one last time before he turns around, leaving Cem staring at the note in front of him. The neat handwriting says “ _Noir_ \- at nine” followed by an address Cem has never heard before and Yun’s phone number.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We (Finn & Maxie, the two kinky idiots who are co-writing this story) hope you enjoyed all the chaotic, cringy tension. Noir at Nine will have monthly updates, but we will keep you fed with snippets, teasers and bonus scenes on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kinkyweirdos) in the meantime! 😊  
> We're always happy about feedback, so if you have the time, please share your thoughts with us, either here in the comment section or on [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/kinkyweirdos) 🖤


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